


Blood on the Sheets

by lacedwithlilacs



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Scarification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacedwithlilacs/pseuds/lacedwithlilacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan has an R carved into his back, between the shoulder blades, the mark of Grantaire. Montparnasse catches sight of it one night and decides to place his own mark on Jehan, only this mark will be seen from any angle that someone fucks Jehan in; Montparnasse will make sure of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood on the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Descriptions of wounds and blood galore; please keep this in mind if either of these things make you squeamish.
> 
> \------
> 
> In yosb!Les Miserables universe, Jehan has an R scar on his back by Grantaire. Sometime later, he gets an M carved into his hip by Montparnasse. Thus where this fic came from.
> 
> I also took a lot of liberties with the amount of blood; a wound this shallow and of this size would not bleed as much as it does in this fic.

Jehan lays on his back, legs gripping tightly around Montparnasse's waist as Montparnasse thrusts roughly into him, sharp and quick and in every way that Montparnasse knows Jehan likes. Jehan moans when he comes between them, clenching his legs tighter around the strong hips, his entire body arching upwards, his chest pressing against Montparnasse's scars. He falls back on the bed after he's painted both of them with his come, chest heaving as he tries to regain his breath. Their bodies are slick with sweat, sliding against one another as Montparnasse comes inside of him, groaning loudly as he spills himself buried deep within Jehan.

Montparnasse pulls out and lays down next to Jehan, reaching for the small washcloth that Jehan had left on his nightstand, always leaves on his nightstand in case a handsome man with the knowledge of exactly how Jehan likes to be fucked comes in the middle of the night. Jehan takes the blue cloth and wipes Montparnasse's chest and stomach first, lingering over the scars crisscrossing all over the taller man's body. He cleans himself off and hands the cloth back to Montparnasse to put it back on the nightstand.

Jehan rolls over and faces away from Montparnasse, so that Montparnasse does not have to look at Jehan when he leaves in the morning before Jehan is awake. Instead, Montparnasse reaches out and presses his index finger against Jehan's back, between the shoulder blades. "What is this?" he asks, his voice gruff and still full of sex. Montparnasse traces the R on Jehan's back, the mark scabbing over but it does not hurt anymore.

For a moment, Jehan is silent, making Montparnasse all the more needy. Montparnasse does not like being held out on, wants his information quick, up front and if it comes to it, with a knife against their throat. "Grantaire's mark," Jehan says quietly and looks over his shoulder at Montparnasse's scowling face, the scar across the bridge of Montparnasse's nose almost disappearing between the way his nose scrunches.

Slowly, Montparnasse brings his gaze up from Jehan's back to his eyes. Jehan cannot read Montparnasse's expression anymore, smoothing to a blank expression. "Does Grantaire stay with you often?" Jehan swallows and rolls onto his back again.

"He stays the night," Jehan says simply and he doesn't mean the words to sound so harsh and sharp, but they are and he cannot take them back. "He's here frequently you could say," Jehan adds and tries not to say that Grantaire is here at least three times a week, imagining Enjolras beneath him instead of Jehan. Montparnasse comes just as frequently and Jehan is amazed that they don't run into one another more often, as though the men had set up some sort of private schedule.

Montparnasse pushes on Jehan's shoulder, forcing the man up and back onto his side, away from him and for a moment Jehan thinks that Montparnasse is going to leave right now when the strong arm comes around and wraps around Jehan's waist. Montparnasse pulls the small man against him, "Grantaire is lucky that I let him play with my toy," he whispers into Jehan's ear. Half of Jehan is flattered, he _is_ partially Montparnasse's and perhaps this is the closest that Montparnasse will ever admit it. The other half of Jehan is offended and disappointed, his body only a toy for Montparnasse, that he'll be disposed of in a year or so.

Jehan falls asleep with these fears and these surges of pride and Montparnasse's arm wrapped possessively around Jehan's thin waist. When he wakes up in the morning, his body is slick with sweat and he goes to move towards the edge of the bed when Montparnasse's arm squeezes tighter around Jehan's waist in his sleep. His stomach clenches, immediately filling with pride and happiness as he rolls over in Montparnasse's grip. Montparnasse's body is warm and the blankets trap all of the heat between them. Jehan wipes his brow of the thin layer of sweat and he leans in, pressing a single kiss to Montparnasse's scar across the right side of his chest.

Montparnasse leaves when Jehan falls back asleep and Jehan doesn't expect anything else. Over the next few nights, he doesn't see Montparnasse. Montparnasse never shows up to his door with a new scar to bear or a bruise on his arm from slamming a man up against the wall with his arm, cutting off the man's breathing until his body is cold. Grantaire comes home with him like normal, almost every other night. Courfeyrac comes home with him two nights that week and Feuilly once to Jehan's surprise.

It's almost nearing three weeks when Montparnasse knocks at Jehan's door. By now, Jehan has stopped hoping it would be Montparnasse. Instead Jehan assumed the very worst. Montparnasse was in a dangerous position and even though he'd been in it since he was 12, with that first scar across the bridge of his nose that Jehan secretly loves so much, Jehan always had to be prepared for an invitation to a burial.

Jehan pulls Montparnasse into his apartment, quickly slamming the door shut and locking it in one fluid motion. "Montparnasse," he says out breathily, sighing in thanks that Montparnasse is still alive. "I had figured the worst," he admits as Montparnasse raises an eyebrow, "You can never be completely sure," he adds.

"Were you worried?" Montparnasse asks with his usual rough voice, but there's a certain softness to it in this question. For a single moment, just barely long enough for Jehan to catch it, he almost seems touched by the notion that his death would negatively affect Jehan. Jehan averts his gaze and nods.

When Jehan looks up again, Montparnasse almost looks apologetic, or as apologetic as Montparnasse could possibly ever be. There almost seems to be an 'I'm sorry' poised on the tip of his tongue that Montparnasse will never let out. "It's okay," Jehan says as he clasps his hands together, almost immediately wringing them, "You're alive, here and well so that's all that matters."

"Do you still have that filthy R on your back?" Montparnasse scowls, changing the subject and reaching into his jacket for something, digging around in the inner breast pocket. He pulls out a small knife in a leather sheath and Jehan knows that Montparnasse carries around a blunt, rusting knife for the men he truly dislikes. Jehan swallows hard and watches as Montparnasse pulls the knife out, the tip of this kinfe sharp and the metal shining in the light of the setting sun. Jehan nods again and Montparnasse looks up at him, the knife in between them. "I'm adding my own mark then," Montparnasse says.

He takes a small step forward, towards Jehan and presses the knife against his own chest. His words do not give any sort of indication that he's asking Jehan for permission, but the hesitation in his step does. Jehan sucks in the air through his nose, his chest puffing out and his back straightening. He swallows once more, watching as Montparnasse's eyes trail down towards his Adam's apple. "Then do so," Jehan says proudly. Montparnasse snaps his gaze up, looking deep into Jehan's hazel eyes.

"Go to your room and undress yourself."

Jehan follows Montparnasse's order, leaving the door open as he pulls at his clothing, his bedroom washed in the bright oranges and pinks of the setting sun, the soft golden colour still kissing his skin as he undresses himself. Montparnasse comes into the room, his maroon jacket, dark red vest, and shoes gone, wearing only his white button up shirt and a pair of black trousers. He holds the knife proudly and watches with approving eyes as Jehan strips. He bends over to pull his pants off, to tease Montparnasse who replies with a growl. Jehan bites at his bottom lip and forces himself to move slower.

Montparnasse has begun unbuttoning his own shirt as Jehan finally gets his pants off, standing up and letting himself adjust to the temperature of the air against his exposed skin. Montparnasse pulls his own shirt open once Jehan's watching him, as though a sort of payback for Jehan's own teasing. The larger man's chest is littered with scars, matching the ones on his face but these are deeper, some of them are unhealed still and scabs hold together flesh loosely. "Lay on your side on the bed," Montparnasse says and waits until Jehan has laid himself down, "I hope you don't care about these sheets."

Jehan lays there silently, obediently and waits for Montparnasse to join him on the bed, keeping his mouth shut. He doesn't care much for his sheets, instead prepping himself for whatever Montparnasse plans to do with him. The large man sits on the bed next to Jehan, on the very edge as he brings his two fingers to Jehan's lips, forcing them in and waiting for Jehan to suck. Jehan does, greedily so and he knows that this is all of the lubrication that Montparnasse will use on him tonight, that if he fails to thoroughly coat the thick, rough, scarred fingers, that he will be the one to pay for it.

After the long fingers are slick with saliva, Montparnasse pulls them out of the poet's mouth. As roughly as he had thrust his fingers between Jehan's lips, he thrusts the first one inside of Jehan's entrance, stretching the smaller man quickly. It doesn't take long before Jehan finds himself moaning with the feeling, pushing back against Montparnasse's finger and almost fucking himself on it. Montparnasse chuckles, low and deep in his throat and adds the second finger, Jehan mewling almost immediately and pushing back harder against the two fingers.

He knows better than to expect any more from Montparnasse though. When he finds himself keening again, reaching forward and grasping the sheets between his fingers, wrinkling them in a tight grasp, Montparnasse pulls his fingers out. Immediately, he places his hand on Jehan's upper hip and bends over, the knife shining proudly in his opposite hand. The knife digs into the soft flesh easily, tearing and biting as the blade drags up his hip, then back down, up again, and back down once more. An M bleeding proudly against his skin.

Without much thought, Jehan lets out a soft, barely audible moan at the sensation. His entire body is still oversensitive, hot and flushed and the feeling of the cold blade against his skin is both sharp and painful while cool and calming against his burning skin. He looks down towards Montparnasse, his body bleeding and it's almost as if there are rivers running from his hip, smearing the mark that Montparnasse has made.

True to his word, there are already spots of blood on Jehan's sheets, as Montparnasse pulls away and smiles to himself at his work. He stands, throwing his knife on top of his shirt that's piled up on the floor and pulls his black trousers off. "Now," Montparnasse says as he tugs his pants off, "I will make sure that no matter what position someone's fucking you in, they'll see this mark and know that you are mine."

Montparnasse kneels on the bed, stroking himself as he makes his way towards Jehan. He grabs the boy's calf, pulling the leg up against his chest, spreading Jehan's cheeks. He grabs a pillow from the head of the bed, positioning it beneath Jehan's clean, unscarred hip and spits into his hand, twice, to slick his cock. He positions himself, bending Jehan's knee against his scarred chest and presses in.

Jehan lets out a whimper, his hands clutching at the sheets tighter as Montparnasse starts fucking him sideways. Montparnasse stretches him wider, pressing in deeper and moving faster, harder, until Jehan finds himself gasping out. He moans, aching to touch himself but he knows that Montparnasse will never let him get himself off, that his thin, delicate wrist would be seized by a much larger hand and held high above his head until Jehan came with a shout.

Jehan feels himself building, his muscles tightening as Montparnasse pulls out, releases Jehan's leg and presses on the front of Jehan's bleeding hip, pushing him over on his back. He pulls Jehan's legs around his waist, locking them against his lower back. He grips at the hips as he thrusts himself in again, digging his finger nails into the clotting wound and opening it again. Jehan hisses at the feeling, moaning half way through as Montparnasse thrusts fully inside.

Montparnasse brings his blood soaked fingertips up to Jehan's chest, raking the nails down the center of Jehan's thin torso, leaving four long trails of blood in their wake. Jehan arches up at the feeling, his skin pressing against the rough, scarred, tanned skin of Montparnasse's hand. He grips tighter around the thick waist, pulling himself closer and fucking himself harder on Montparnasse's dick, until he gasps at every single thrust.

Abruptly, Montparnasse pulls out again, Jehan whining immediately at the loss of feeling and grasping at Montparnasse's back. The larger man leans down, his lips next to Jehan's ear and the breath hot against the shell of Jehan's ear, "Hands and knees," he gruffs out, "then I'll let you come."

Obediently, Jehan rolls over onto his hands and knees, arching back and trying to make his ass look better. Montparnasse groans, deep and low, when he enters Jehan this time and Jehan knows that he won't be able to hold out much longer anymore. Montparnasse grabs Jehan's hips, pulling Jehan back with every thrust, deeper and rougher until Jehan is crying out with every thrust again. Tears bite at the corners of his eyes, his entire body overwhelmed at every single touch from Montparnasse.

The tears stream down his cheeks, falling off the tip of his chin as Montparnasse presses his hand hard against Jehan's hip, spilling the blood. He pulls his hand off of the wound and wipes it across the disgusting R on Jehan's back, covering the scar in his own blood, the blood of Montparnasse's mark. The warm, sticky liquid on his back sends him over the edge, coupled by Montparnasse's rough fucking. He comes with a high pitched moan, without even Montparnasse's hand jerking him off.

After a few more seconds, Jehan feels Montparnasse come deep inside of him, Montparnasse's hands gripping at Jehan's hips tightly, enough to leave bruises in the morning. The sun sets beyond the horizon as Jehan falls onto his bed, his arms weak and his entire body shaking with his rough breathing. Montparnasse walks back on knees and stands at the edge of the bed, wiping his hand clean of the blood with Jehan's sheets. He picks his clothes up, poised to begin dressing. "I'll pay you what you would make tonight if you stay with me." The words tumble out before he can stop them, but they don't have any less meaning.

"Is that prostitution?" Montparnasse asks, sounding genuine rather than rude or disapproving.

Jehan shakes his head, moving his hand down and poking at the mark on his hip, the blood having finally clotted and leaving only drying trails of blood. "I'm paying you for your time, not to fuck me." Montparnasse stares at Jehan, contemplating his offer in his mind and Jehan can almost see him calculating the various outcomes. He motions for Montparnasse to join him, raising his hand and waving Montparnasse over, "Come. I pay a handsome fee."

Montparnasse swallows hard and bunches his clothes together, into a singular pile and leaves his blood soaked knife on top as he moves towards Jehan on the bed. Jehan does pay well, the son of a rich father who has no knowledge of what his only son does in Paris and Montparnasse knows he can't pass up such easy money. "You can even leave in the morning before I wake for all I care," Jehan says simply, "and come back for your payment later."

**Author's Note:**

> i am back from finals all!!!!! thank god, they kicked my butt this year but now i have all the time in the world to write lots of les mis porn ╮(─▽─)╭


End file.
